Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 183: Chapter 183

I bit my lip and restarted the car, making a U-turn to return home.
Once I was back in my room, I threw myself onto the bed, my mind racing. George's words flashed through my thoughts, only to be replaced by the face that looked so much like Diana's.
I had hoped that after remarrying Quinn, life would feel easier somehow—that I could live more freely, without having to endure any more injustices.
But here I was, feeling like a trapped animal, caught in a snare, with no idea how to escape.
That evening, Quinn came home and asked about my day with Benedict.
I could barely hide my coldness. I gave him a distant, indifferent response—no warmth, no enthusiasm. I simply muttered, "Well," as if to acknowledge him.
He seemed distracted, too, oblivious to the shift in my mood.
Twisting the coffee cup in his hands, he hesitated before speaking. "There's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?" I suppressed the surging emotions in my heart and asked with a normal expression.
"I'm going overseas tomorrow for a business trip to Dazzle Group's headquarters to sort out some issues with the project materials."
That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, my mind spinning in circles. I was not sure when I finally drifted off, but when I opened my eyes again, Quinn was already gone.
It was 7 AM, and the sky outside was a dull gray. As I got out of bed, I heard Quinn's car pulling out of the driveway.
Around noon, just after I finished feeding Benedict, the doorbell rang.
The housekeeper answered, returning shortly with a package. "Mrs. Madden, this is addressed to Mr. Madden. I signed for it. Should I take it to the study?"
I couldn't shake the feeling it might be an urgent work document, so I asked, "Is it from the company?"
"No, it's from someone named Clarissa," the housekeeper replied, reading the name on the delivery label.
I froze. A chill ran down my spine. "Give it to me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I walked back to my room, my steps heavy.
After standing there, hesitating for a long moment, I finally opened the package.
Inside were a few old photographs—nothing too substantial, but enough to shake me to my core.
Each one was a clear reminder of time gone by, showing Quinn and Clarissa together.
In their youth, Quinn had a slightly boyish look, standing beside the shorter Clarissa.
Clarissa, with her ponytail, looked shy in front of the camera, but her bright eyes sparkled with a soft smile. Quinn, in his high-neck school uniform, wore a faint smile that softened the otherwise aloof expression he usually wore.
Even though Clarissa and Diana were twins, you could tell they were fundamentally different just by looking at their eyes, and their brows.
Clarissa was gentler, and more graceful than Diana. Maybe it was her heart condition that had caused her skin to be so pale, but every gesture, every smile of hers seemed to exude a delicate charm.
There were only three photos, but each one marked a different chapter in their lives.
From their innocent, carefree youth to their more mature adult selves, the last photo was of Clarissa in a hospital gown.
In all the years I'd been married to Quinn, I had never seen him wear the same look that he had in those photos.
It wasn't just tenderness. Their poses had evolved—from standing side by side to something far more intimate.
Quinn held her hand, gazing down at her. The sunlight streaming through the window added a soft warmth to the picture, giving it the feel of "a life well-lived, with you by my side."
I couldn't control it. The jealousy hit me like a punch to the gut.
Quinn had hidden every trace of Clarissa from me. I had never known.
I forced myself to swallow the wave of emotion threatening to consume me, along with the tears that burned behind my eyes.
Carefully, I placed the photos back in their folder and was about to set it aside when I noticed something else inside—a postcard.
At first, my attention had been entirely caught up in the photos, but now I belatedly picked up the card. The design showed a long bridge draped with flowering vines, and the blank space was filled with delicate handwriting.
I remembered from the private investigator's report that Clarissa had never gone to school due to her health problems. But looking at her handwriting, I could tell she was the kind of person who had a rich, poetic soul.
Her handwriting was beautiful—elegant, flowing.
The postcard read: [Dear Quinn, after returning to the country, I found these old photos at our former home. Back then, I was still so naive, while you had already learned to be responsible, building a world for me.
[Every time I look at these photos, I'm flooded with memories of those unique moments in our youth. I'm so grateful that you were part of my life.
[My world used to be gray, but you made it colorful, helping me accept this imperfect version of myself.
[But my health has always been fragile. If it weren't for your care and Dr. Johnson's support, I don't think I'd still be here.
[I don't know how much longer I have, so I'm sending you these photos, these "exclusive memories," to keep for yourself.
[—Clarissa]
Exclusive memories? The words hit me like a sharp knife, and I couldn't move for a long time.
These three photos, along with the words on the postcard, had opened a door for me.
Behind that door was just Quinn and Clarissa—there was no place for me.
That evening, after finally managing to get Benedict settled and asleep, the nanny gave me a quiet wave and handed me my phone, which had been on silent.
I saw it was a call from Shirley, and I felt a little surprised. I passed Benedict over to the nanny and stepped out onto the terrace to take the call.
"Mom, it's so late—why aren't you asleep?" I asked, my voice full of concern.
Shirley's voice came through, soft and a little hesitant. "I've been thinking about some things and couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to you."
"Of course, I'm your little confidante, right?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what's on your mind, Mom?"
Then came the bombshell. "I've made up my mind tonight... I want to divorce your father."
I was taken aback, but I respected her decision.
"Mom, no matter what, it's always right to choose the life you want," I told her, my tone steady. "You forgave Dad for his affair because of Grandma, but now that she's gone, you don't have to carry that weight anymore."
In my eyes, Ben was the last person who deserved Shirley. She deserved a life filled with happiness and freedom.
"Natalia," Shirley said gently, "I've told you before, my greatest wish is for the people I love to be safe and happy."
"Happiness" was such an easy word to say, but finding it? That was a whole different story.
I paused for a moment, letting her words sink in before I answered, "I want you to be happy too, Mom."